


No Sooner Found Alone

by romanticalgirl



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 20:55:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rush upon me thronging</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Sooner Found Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://nolivingman.livejournal.com/profile)[**nolivingman**](http://nolivingman.livejournal.com/) for the beta. Finished on command of[](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/) **inlovewithnight**.
> 
> Originally posted 9-11-08

The lights dimmed and he felt the sharp edge of excitement knife through him. Candles flared and flickered around the dusty dark wood of the stage, giving the misty gray of the room a strangely shadowed glow. There was a sudden loud crack shuddering through the building and then more lights flared to life, shining like fading stars on the sharp, powdered faces.

Words fractured and splintered in the air, falling like rain on the audience, rhyme and riveting. He sat enthralled in his seat, enraptured by the wicked fantasy playing out before his eyes.

Time passed and the house erupted in noise, the explosion of applause like cannon fire, the audience surrendering as the actors bowed their victory, accepting the battle cry of ‘Bravo!’ as their due.

He slipped off his chair, making his way through the crowd, away from the doors and toward the thick smell of grease paint. He moved easily into the group at the base of the stage, edging past most of them with elbows and polite words wrapped in danger.

Continuing down the hallway, he smiled sharply, eyes flashing with warning as half clad actors and actresses crowded close. Most stepped aside at his look, though a few stayed close, pressing to the smooth line of his suit, brushing the fabric with greedy fingers. His sly smirk graced them all as he passed, moving deeper into the heated bowels of the theater. He pressed past naked flesh and tattered sets, shouting and cries echoing past him.

The final door was closed, light seeping out beneath it, beating the too familiar shadows back to gold. He knocked firmly, laying his hand against the wood as if he could feel the pulse of the place in the grain.

The door opened and she stood there, smile parting her painted lips. He bowed low, offering her a smile of his own.

“You’re far too young for this,” she informed him softly as he straightened, the admonition not preventing her from stepping back and allowing him entrance to the room. He moved inside, a quick appraising glance taking in the shabby surroundings, the lantern’s pale glow giving the room a false beauty and enhancing the true beauty that was all her own.

“For the theater?” He asked as she closed the door, turning the key in the lock. “And yet you assured my uncle that there was nothing here that even a child could not see.”

“Could not,” she agreed, sinking down on a low chaise lounge, her hand at the lacy outline of her bosom, fingers fanned to frame the pale skin. “A far different proposition than should not.”

“I’m not a child.”

She watched him, knowing eyes taking in the tailored clothes, the aristocratic manner, his unlined face. “No,” she agreed. “Not a child. But not quite a man yet either.”

His mouth tightened, irritation transforming him into the promise of the man he would no doubt become. “By what definition?”

She laughed and his eyes narrowed, danger curving his answering smile. “Are you a man in _any_ sense of the word, my Lord?”

“I have bedded a woman.”

She laughed again, getting to her feet and approaching him, her simple undergarment brushing the dust away at her feet. She circled him slowly, fingers tracing the broadening line of his shoulders as she leaned in, her breath hot on his neck. “A girl. A best.”

“It matters not what _she_ was, only what she’s made me.”

“You think plunging your weapon into a willing foe makes you a man?” There was soft regret in her voice as she came around him again, smoothing the lapel of his jacket. She sighed. “Pity.”

“What does then, if not that?” His voice still held the hard edge of superiority, though the harsh lines of his face had softened.

“Any boy can poke a stick in a hornet’s nest,” she whispered, her voice lilted with laughter. “It takes a man to stir the hornets deep inside it.”

He laughed, catching the hand still resting lightly on his chest. He brought it carefully to his lips, a warm kiss laid on her smooth skin. “I’ve heard it unwise to provoke a hornets nest.”

“Most unwise,” she agreed, bringing her free hand up to trace his lower lip with her thumb. “But quite an amazing sight should you be brave enough to risk it.”

“Bravery is not something I lack.” His tongue darted out, tasting her thumb, curling around it and bringing it into his mouth. He sucked on it then bit gently. “Are you all talk and playacting, Miss Cobham?” He breached the distance between them, breathing the soft air that slipped past her lips. “Or are you brave as well?”

She laughed again and shook her head, moving over to the lounge again and sitting on the edge of it, laying back slowly, as her fingers unlaced the ribbon holding her corset together. “It takes bravery to face men and women of every standing and say lines meant to titillate, my Lord.” She continued unlacing the ribbon, fabric loosening. “Not a job for the weak at heart.”

“It is most decidedly not your heart I’m interested in, Miss Cobham.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed as she sat up, letting the corset fall away, the loose shift dress she wore beneath it offering shadows and silhouettes of her skin. “For I have no interest in whatever it was you offered that girl of yours.” She lay back again, one hand reaching up to slide the shoulder strap of her dress down and offer him a creamy glimpse of skin, the swell of her breast riding high against the slipping fabric, as the other gathered in her skirts, tugging them upward. “Hornets sleep deeply, my Lord. Waking them is not nearly so easy a task as simply thrusting your stick in the hole and wiggling it around.”

“Then how does one…wake a hornet?”

Her hands stilled for a moment, and then the one on her breast moved down, the fabric pushed free of the peak of her breast, the hard nub of her nipple dark rose against her pale flesh. “First of all, one must find the nest.”

Edrington licked his lips, swallowing as he watched her trace the skin, tightening the nipple still more, the puckered skin holding his gaze, more riveted than anything he’d seen on stage earlier. “I had thought the nest was much lower.”

“Your first mistake,” she said lightly, her tongue wetting her lips as she let her thumb sweep over the tip. “You likely know where the opening to the nest is, I’ll grant you that. But the nest is far more than that. It’s a maze of hidden rooms and deep secrets. You have to feel it, learn its structure. You have to search out all the hornets to know where they lie.”

He moved over to her, kneeling beside the lounge. He let his hand settle on her stomach then slid it up, stopping just beneath the curve of her breast, his thumb grazing the flesh lightly. “Search them out?”

“Like you’re hunting, my Lord. Stealthy, slowly. Take your time.” She watched him with dark eyes, the slightest hint of a smile on her lips. “You don’t wish to frighten your prey.”

“Somehow I doubt that’s possible given the present company.”

She laughed softly and shook her head, her dark hair falling down across her bared shoulders. “Every woman has the capacity to be frightened, my Lord. Another thing you’d do well to remember.”

“Not just frightened, I hope?” He slid his hand higher, taking the weight of her breast in his hand, feeling it as his thumb traced over the hardened tip. “Desirous. Aroused. Wanting.”

“I think you’ll find that those are capacities women have in great quantity. Capacities that often go wanting when men rut around like pigs after truffles, looking to fill their own desires.”

“It’s not mutual then?”

“Very rarely.” Her breath caught as he teased the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Very, very rarely.”

He brought his other hand up, tugging her dress lower on the other side as well, exposing her other breast. Kitty’s eyes drifted closed, lashes fluttering on her cheeks. Her breath wavered slightly, uneven as he leaned in, letting his own soft exhale dance across her skin. With the slowest of approaches, he ran the tip of his tongue over her nipple, applying light pressure with his fingers to the other.

“O-oh.” She gasped softly, her hips angling off the lounge just slightly, more a movement of skirts than any true shift.

“Are the hornets stirring?” He murmured against her skin, taking the nub between his teeth and then sucking on it, his hand continuing to work lightly on the other breast. Kitty’s hand lifted, settling on his shoulder, fingers caught just above the tightly wrapped hair of his queue.

“They’re awake.” She admitted with a husky laugh, the sound sending a shock of sensation through him. “Some of them.”

“Only some?”

“Oh yes. The hornet’s nest is deceptive.” She trailed a finger down her stomach. “So many places they can hide. So many places to search.”

“My work is far from done then.” He moved his mouth to the other breast, letting his hand replace it, fingers working over the wet skin. “So much territory to cover.”

“Y-you’re learning, m’Lord.” Her breathing stuttered, growing husky and rough. Her fingers grazed his queue before taking it in hand, squeezing the hard rope of hair. “One must…one must beware of hornets though. No sudden movements lest you stir them to striking before you’re ready.”

“Fear not, Miss Cobham.” His fingers skirted her stomach, guiding her shift lower. Her skin was fair, dusted with sweet smelling powder. He pressed lightly, feeling the shift of muscle and fabric then slid his hand further southward. Kitty’s hips rose and he pushed the dress down, out of his way. She was naked beneath it, the quick changes to breeches often needed in the theater requiring it, and he stared down at her, memorizing the lines and curves of her body. His fingers traced the path downward, barely brushing the dark hair that covered the slope between her legs before grazing over her thighs. “I shall take all the time in the world.”

“Not that long, I hope, m-m’lord.” Her breath trembled as his fingers dipped down, skirting her inner thighs before moving back up to explore the curve of her hip.

“Surely the longer I take, the more…excited the hornets will be.” His hand continued moving in delicate, distracting patterns as he leaned in and whispered the words against her skin. “I can feel them now, buzzing and humming.”

“Can you?” Her eyes closed and she eased her leg off of the chaise, parting her thighs and offering up the scent of want, musky and sweet in the perfumed air of the dressing room.

“Oh yes.” He ran his hand lightly over her navel then let it trail downward once more. This time, his fingers found the silky hairs, tangling lightly in them before slipping lower still, parting the tender flesh they shielded. “I would say they’re quite aware of my presence.” He closed his eyes as he felt the damp flesh, barely touching the swollen skin. Even with his lightest of touches, she still gasped and he laughed softly. “I think you’re quite wrong, you know.”

“Wrong?” The word choked out of her, wrenched from her already parted lips.

“Not hornets at all.” He moved down the chaise, easing her legs farther apart so he could lean in. His breath fanned over the dark hairs and she shuddered hard as his lips whispered words against her skin. “Bees, Miss Cobham, buzzing and making the sweetest of honey.”

She arched off the bed as his mouth found her, tongue and lips capturing the delicate flesh and feasting on it, licking and sucking until the swarming buzz filled his ears, until her hand had tangled in his hair, tugging it free of its queue as she guided him, holding him against her until he finally had to pull away to breathe.

His breeches were easily undone and pushed away as he moved up to kiss her, sharing the nectar-sweet taste with the easy thrust of his tongue in her mouth, matching the harder thrust of his shaft inside her. Both sets of lips parted for him, wet and ready for his entrance, eager to be filled.

Kitty’s legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper inside her. They moved together, finding a rhythm instinctively. The velvet roughness of the chaise hissed against her skin, against his palms as he braced himself over her. She felt swollen under him, stung lips plump and tender from rough kisses and her body tight around his, clenching until every muscle pulsed with the heat of her and he spent himself, thrusting into the wash of her own climax.

They lay there afterward, both relearning their breathing. He tangled his fingers in the curls of her hair, their previous stiffness given way to relaxation. “So what say you, Miss Cobham?” His voice was rough, ragged with perspiration and exertion. “Am I well versed in the stirring of hornets?”

“Quite, my Lord.” She closed her eyes and tilted her head so his fingers brushed her skin. “Your chambermaid did quite well in educating you at that.”

“My chambermaid, as you so call her, did nothing of the sort.” He kissed her softly, his hips rolling gently against hers once more. “Whatever man I am, Miss Cobham, is the man you’ve made me.”

“Let us hope you remember the lesson well then, my Lord. For the sake of all the other women you will bed.”

“I’m a firm believer in excellence, Kitty.” He purred her name, reveling in the pleasured response it evoked in her. “Perhaps another lesson is in order.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed, sliding her hands beneath his soft white shirt and stroking the length of his back. “As we say in my business, my Lord, a little practice certainly couldn’t hurt.”  



End file.
